


the art of reaping what you sow

by trapavoid



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, Humor, Literally so stupid, M/M, Mild Language, One Shot, POV Outsider, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, and Everything else, ish, like a lot of f bombs tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27884320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trapavoid/pseuds/trapavoid
Summary: Kei's interest in Hinata and Kageyama and their little will-they-won't-they relationship is, of course, purely scientific, but he'll get to the bottom of it either way. Luckily he's in absolutely no danger of finding anything out about himself along the way!
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 37
Kudos: 260





	the art of reaping what you sow

**Author's Note:**

> repost because the other version was glitchin. anyway tldr tsukki stupid

i. 

This is not a love story.

It can’t be, because Kei is the narrator and it’s about _him_. And he hates Hinata and Kageyama, really detests them and their enthusiasm and loud voices and general insufferable attachment to volleyball and each other, so if you want to call it something you can call it a hate story. So there.

Tadashi says that it’s okay to admit that he likes them. “Or at least, you know. That you’re grudgingly fond of them?” This shows that at the end of the day, Tadashi knows fuckall about anything, because holy _god_ do those little creeps make his blood boil.

But for Tadashi’s sake, call it a… report, maybe, on an empirically-derived conclusion. And god, it keeps him up at night that that tyrant and his little ruddy-faced court jester managed to have a big enough impact on his life that he noticed these things, made these observations – but he is, after all, a man of science. He’ll stop beating around the bush.

Soon.

Here’s the deal: Kei believes that if you research anything enough, you’ll find evidence in its favor. So if you start off already believing something is true and then spend all of your time looking for evidence, yeah, you’re going to find the necessary affirmations to go around believing that the Earth is flat or that dinosaurs were alive at the same time as cavemen or that talking too much about volleyball to your nonconsenting teammates makes you grow shorter and stupider (Kei had planted that one in Hinata’s head, to be fair). But it’s hard to look at Hinata and Kageyama and not draw some sort of hypothesis, you know?

It had been after practice, that first time, and the team was getting ready to go home. Kei had been dressing slowly so that he could finish at the same time as Tadashi, letting his eyes wander and pretending to be distracted so his friend didn’t catch on and accuse him of being thoughtful. His gaze had landed on Hinata and Kageyama. They were deep in conversation, heads bent together. Hinata was gesturing emphatically but not shouting for once, his eyes bright and wide like a – like a cartoon golden retriever, maybe. He had put his hand on Kageyama’s shoulder for a moment and the king had jerked almost imperceptibly, cheeks _coloring_ , before composing himself and carrying on with the conversation. 

Kei felt… sick to his stomach. Truly. The thought of the two of them in a relationship – even just the thought of Kageyama Tobio liking someone – was so nauseating that he genuinely considered for a moment if he was homophobic. Then he considered the degree to which he would probably make out with Tadashi if he ever said the word or gave the vaguest inclination that that was something he’d be interested in too, and figured he was okay on that front.

Woah.

What?

That felt like something to suppress a little. 

He had quickly looked away, grabbed his bag, and left the changing room without another word, and even though he was physically itching to go wash his brain out with bleach, he couldn’t bring himself to not wait for Tadashi by the gate.

That night, he tried desperately to forget about the freak duo’s little spectacle, but it was too late – the seed was planted. And that planted seed grew into a _toxic mold_ on Kei’s life (mold doesn’t come from seeds, he recognizes, but this story is a mess both in its telling and its content); it was impossible not to notice, now, how Kageyama would stare like a distraught poopy baby across the gym at Hinata when he deigned to spend breaks with the laughing Tanaka and Nishinoya instead of Kageyama, the human embodiment of gastrointestinal issues. How he would find any excuse to dig his fingers into Hinata’s aggressively orange hair, smirking as Hinata went into full Chihuahua-mode trying to get him off. How he would keep on making these bets that there was no earthly way he was going to win, the penalty for which was buying Hinata meat buns after practice. Kageyama would grumble but there’d be this self-satisfied little look on his face when he’d usher Hinata out the door for their little – Kei’s stomach rolls – _date_. 

It felt reasonable to conclude: Kageyama Tobio had a crush, on Hinata Shoyou no less, and Kei was either the only one who noticed or the only one who cared enough to put the pieces together. For the record, Kei cares because he likes solving puzzles – this is just another word-finding booklet gifted to him on another long car ride at seven years old, and he’s just getting lost again trying to find the word _Megalosaurus_ among a jumble of random letters. Or, you know. Trying to find evidence of romantic feelings among a jumble of near-homicides on the king’s part. 

He tells Tadashi because he’s a selfish, selfish man and he can’t bear this burden alone. He presents his findings in an empiric and orderly fashion one day at lunch. 

Tadashi is silent for a long moment, afterwards. “I didn’t think Kageyama could think about anything besides volleyball,” he says finally, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on his desk. Kei realizes he’s looking at Tadashi a little too intensely and tries to look like he cares less than he does.

“That’s it?” he demands.

“What do you mean, Tsukki?”

“I mean—” What _does_ he mean? “Don’t you think it’s weird? That I’m the only one who noticed? _Me_?”

“I mean, yeah. Yes. I think it’s weird.”

Kei does not appreciate the judgement there. He whips around in his chair – he’s in the desk in front of Tadashi’s – and tugs his headphones down over his ears, folding his arms loosely across his chest. His podcast resumes, a low enough volume that he can hear Tadashi huff before yanking Kei’s headphones back down.

“ _Okay_ , okay. I’m in.”

Kei glances over his shoulder at his friend. Tadashi’s hair is getting so long, flopping into his eyes a bit, but Kei can still see the mirth evident in them, and in his pinched smile that he doesn’t quite successfully suppress. That’s okay. Kei can’t for the life of him figure out why this matters so much to him, either – _if Hinata and Kageyama, two (arguable) best friends, can get together, then why couldn’t – ?_

Well, like he said. He’ll just never know. It’s a mystery.

As long as Tadashi’s in, too. 

After that, the order of business is getting Tadashi to see for himself. Every time Kageyama and Hinata sit together during practice, letting some of the intensity afforded to them by volleyball wane during breaks, Kei sends a pointed look at Tadashi. Tadashi smiles and gives him a thumbs up. 

Every time Hinata does something that demonstrates that he is, at times, capable of not playing volleyball like a determined toddler who learned the rules that morning, and Kageyama steels his obvious discomfort at praising his teammates to give Hinata a delayed but genuine, “Nice,” Kei makes sure his eyes meet Tadashi’s. Tadashi nods thoughtfully.

And most notably – when he happens to want a drink from the vending machine that happens to be located past the classroom where Hinata and Kageyama happen to sometimes eat lunch, and he and Tadashi are forced to witness Kageyama staring mutely and – oh, god – adoringly at Hinata while he talks, he looks over to see his friend’s reaction. He’s prepared to give him a look that says “See? _See_?” but Tadashi isn’t even looking at the freak duo. He’s looking at Kei. Intensely. Kei feels his stomach roll for a reason that may not be related to hatred for Kageyama Tobio’s love life at all (although his hatred for Kageyama Tobio and all aspects of his life as it affects Kei’s is Kei’s constant dormant companion). 

He means to say, “What are you looking at?” or maybe, “Look at them, Tadashi, not me,” but what comes out is, “What, uh. Are they?”

Tadashi seems to get what he means, thankfully, but instead of answering he looks away and grabs Kei’s arm. “Come on, let’s go,” he mumbles, pulling Kei along. Kei thinks Tadashi is finally starting to understand for himself. 

ii.

That night, Kei’s at his desk finishing his homework, chin resting on his bent knees as he methodically copies down problems in the too-yellow lamplight of his bedroom, when he realizes what’s missing from his investigation. There’s a central question he’d failed, somehow, to consider. 

Does Hinata even like the king back?

He’s been caught up in thinking that a relationship – albeit the most unholy, obnoxiously loud relationship dripping in volleyball fetish and abandonment issues imaginable – would naturally follow Kageyama’s little crush. But relationships are a two-way street, aren’t they? His gaze snaps up from his notebook to the ticking clock mounted on the wall. Nine minutes to midnight. Was the king headed toward heartbreak?

This… complicated things. Would it be funny to see Kageyama get turned down by someone who looks like a rejected shopping mall elf in one of those American Christmas movies? Yes. Very much yes. But there’s something that also feels wrong about it. Well, two things. First, it could affect the team. Kei does not inherently care about this, as someone with, like, goals and ambitions outside of hitting balls around in a sweaty gym. But it does feel… _inopportune_ , maybe, to have dedicated so much of his goddamn time to this sport and this team only to lose prematurely because the self-described control tower is having a temper tantrum. Would Kageyama have a temper tantrum? God, that would be funny. 

Or – it _should_ be funny. There’s no way that the mental image of Kageyama running tearfully away with one hand pressed tragically to his heart shouldn’t be putting a smile on Kei’s face, but it’s not, and that leads him to his second reason: he doesn’t know. Pining after your best friend before building up the courage to confess and ultimately getting rejected? There’s just no connection to his life there, so he cannot for the life of him articulate why it puts such a sour taste in his mouth.

He _tsks_ out loud to his room, maybe because he’s annoyed and maybe because he likes the drama of it all. But he’s already dedicated too much of his time to thinking about it, and he feels dangerously close to making some kind of breakthrough in this own life, so he turns the volume of his music to almost 50% (which is 25% higher than he usually listens to it, for the record) and drowns out any thoughts that aren’t derivatives. 

He knows what he has to do.

The next day, he slips wordlessly past Tadashi when the lunch bell rings. Tadashi only rolls his eyes, used to Kei changing his plans without telling him, and goes to find other acquaintances to eat with. 

“Good luck, Tsukki,” he calls to Kei’s retreating back.

Kei says, “Shut up, Yamaguchi.” Rituals, he finds, are comforting.

He finds Hinata and Kageyama hunched over the same desk, furiously scribbling in their notebooks. Yachi sits at another desk that they’ve dragged over to join with theirs, fiddling with an eraser shaped like a little dog, periodically offering breathy little encouragements to the two boys as they copy out of what can only be her notebook. She looks up when she sees Kei in the doorway of the classroom. 

“Tsukishima-san,” she squeaks. Kei knows that he freaks her out a little bit still, which he feels bad about because she’s generally one of the less insufferable people he’s met through Karasuno’s volleyball program. She reminds him, in some ways, of Tadashi. In fact, he’s thought multiple times that she and Tadashi make more sense than… than… well, now he’s pissed, for some reason. 

It’s hard being him. Truly.

He gives her a little nod before deigning to look all the way down his nose at Kageyama, who noticed him a couple moments after Yachi and has been glowering up at him ever since. 

“What are you doing here?” Kageyama barks. _Barks_. God, this guy is insufferable.

Doubly insufferable is the fact that Kei has no good answer to this question. He never had a plan, per se, because he’d figured he could just waltz in and tell Kageyama that he needed to talk to him. But now that he’s here, he sees how weird that would be, and besides, can’t even bring himself to choke the words out.

“Your stupidity was leaking out of this classroom and down the hall and I started to feel myself be physically affected by it,” he says instead. This is not a lie, but it’s also not why he’s here and certainly not the most productive thing he could have chosen to say.

Hinata and Kageyama, predictably, begin to noisily protest, but Yachi just looks up at him with those wide eyes. She cocks her head to the side a fraction, her eyebrows pulling together thoughtfully. That’s what Tadashi looks like when he’s being thoughtful, too, but it works better for him than it does for Yachi, in Kei’s unbiased and objective opinion. Tadashi knowing him is expected; Yachi looking like she knows him makes him feel like an open book. 

“—and who’s the stupid one here when you’re like seven meters tall, huh?” Hinata is saying, shaking his fist. “Your brain is stretched out in your freakishly noodle-y body, so there’s not enough of it—”

“Tsukishima-san,” Yachi says. Hinata shuts up. “Did you need to talk to one of us?”

Kei averts his eyes. He looks at the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. If the equations scrawled on the board are anything to go by, this class is one full unit behind his. That makes him feel better. He keeps looking to the front of the room when he says, “King. Can I. Have a word.”

He hears Hinata make a little noise of surprise, before snickering. “Don’t die, Kageyamaaaa,” he sing-songs. Kageyama, surprisingly, stands up and pushes back from the desk without giving Kei any grief about his intentions. Kei turns on his heel and walks out of the classroom without checking that Kageyama is behind him, but when he wheels around in a little vending machine cove several paces down the hall he sees the king has obediently followed.

He blinks stupidly at Kei, and Kei feels himself sneer. “I know,” he says.

“What?”

“About your little crush.”

Kageyama’s eyes bulge for a moment, color rising to his face faster than Kei thought possible. He steels his expression soon enough, but Kei has all the confirmation he needs. Still, Kageyama decides to be difficult. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

“Oh, come on. We both know you’re too dumb to hide your feelings. You look at Hinata like you’re a starving little Victorian boy and he’s a bowl of gruel or whatever the fuck they ate, and it physically makes me ill. Physically. Please know that I would never – _never_ – intentionally seek out your company—”

“How’d you find out?” Kageyama interrupts. He keeps licking his lips, his gaze flickering from Kei to the classroom to the windows near them like he’s looking for a way out.

Kei rolls his eyes. “Please.”

“So, what. You’re here to make fun of me?”

“I mean, yeah. But also – look. It would be inconvenient for me if this goes awry. I have a… a personal investment in the outcome of your little – situation, I guess.”

“A personal… investment…?” Kageyama repeats dumbly. 

“I despise you,” Kei says, and means it. Truly. “Among your myriad insufferable qualities is the fact that there’s more empty space in your head than a volleyball – and I hate that I’ve been around you so much that I’ve started making volleyball references, _god_ – but through some pathetic and largely inexplicable compulsion I’m offering you my help, so I really suggest that you pull all two of your remaining functioning brain cells together to form the first good decision of your miserable, volleyball-infested life and accept it without asking questions.”

Kei and Kageyama stare at each other harshly for a moment – Kei tries to look indifferent but he can feel his palms start to sweat, because he knows if Kageyama asks him _why_ he’ll say something stupid and very false, of course, like, “Despite everything I hate about you, I don’t want to see you get hurt and also I relate to your experiences and I need to see how this goes for you so that I can have one glimmer of hope that things in my personal life will sort themselves out, too.” And none of that is true, obviously. Obviously. And lying is bad. See: Kei’s tragic lying brother backstory arc.

Some deity is looking out for him in this moment, though. Kageyama says, slowly, “…Okay. Okay.”

And just like that, another researcher joins Kei’s team. Kageyama bows to him, since he takes everything so goddamn seriously, before walking back to his classroom and leaving Kei alone by the vending machines.

He buys some bottled coffee for Tadashi and tries not to think about what his life has become.

iii.

They get weird looks, he and Kageyama, when they spend time together during practice for the first time ever. And during breaks, too. All Kei’s doing is giving Kageyama the rundown: he’s going to figure out if Hinata likes him back, so all he needs Kageyama to do is act natural around them and let Kei engage in some good old-fashioned observational study. 

Kageyama nods gravely like the breakdown isn’t Kei doing all the work. He tries not to let the general disgust that he feels show on his face. 

Weirdly, Tadashi dresses quickly after practice for once and rushes out the door without waiting for Kei. It’s definitely unusual, but Kei is busy repacking his gym bag at a glacial pace and watching Kageyama and Hinata debrief practice out of the corner of his eye, anyway.

It goes like this:

Kaeyama tells Hinata that he needs to work on not receiving with his face. His voice is void of any genuine malice, so it almost sounds like teasing. But the king doesn’t tease. Surely.

Hinata punches him in the arm, hard, and tells him that he’ll buy meat buns today if Kageyama will shut up and maybe learn some new insults, since the ones he has are getting old. 

Kageyama tells him he’s getting old, Hinata tells him his face is getting old, and they leave together, presumably to get the aforementioned meat buns.

It feels uncomfortably like they have the situation under control, Kei realizes. This can’t be right, obviously, because they’re genuinely two of the dumbest people he’s ever met, and in terms of emotional maturity, Kagyama’s a clogged toilet. As they leave, Kageyama gives him a long, questioning look over his shoulder, but Kei can only stare after them in confusion. It’s almost like Kageyama doesn’t need him and he should be focusing on his own problems, but—

Again, that can’t be right. He stuffs the rest of his practice gear into his bag and leaves the gym for Nishinoya to close.

It’s not until he’s out in the cold that he remembers the coffee he bought earlier that’s burning a hole in his backpack pocket. He shrugs and begins the slow walk home; he’ll give it to Tadashi tomorrow.

But Tadashi’s not at school the next day. His mother calls Kei as he’s waiting for the bus in the morning, shifting from one foot to the other to stay warm. 

“Yamaguchi-san,” he answers the phone, frowning. His breath puffs out in front of him, hanging a moment in the dim pre-dawn air.

“Hi, Kei-chan,” she says. “Tadashi is sick today, poor thing. Won’t get out of bed, although I don’t know if he has a temperature. Will you collect his homework and bring it to him after school?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s frowning deeper now. He’s always been a really good frowner. 

“Oh, good. I’m sure it’ll make him feel better to see you.”

“Sure.”

“And you’ll tell the boys at volleyball practice that he won’t be there? That nice one with the silver hair and the captain?”

“Sure.”

“What an angel. Have a good day, Kei-chan.”

“Su—you, too.”

He doesn’t have a good day, really. Tadashi is one of his only friends at school and certainly his closest, but Kei’s the type of person who’s just fine on his own, so it doesn’t bother him too much in the short run. During lunch, he almost considers finding Yachi, Hinata, and Kageyama – for research purposes – but the thought of choosing, consensually, to spend time with them makes him angry to the point where he finds himself unconsciously crushing his juice box, so he slips his headphones on and stays put. 

Life without Tadashi is like – well, it’s like life with Tadashi, for the most part, but a little more hectic. Tadashi is something like his safety net, he realizes; the only social interaction available to him that doesn’t actively exhaust him. 

He stares out the window at the courtyard – frost-tipped grass, bare trees, a brooding gray backdrop of mounting storm clouds – and wills the day to be over soon. 

iv. 

He knocks on the Yamaguchi household’s door for a long time, hand freezing in the bitter evening cold, before it finally opens. 

“Tsukki?” 

It’s Tadashi. He’s wrapped in a blue blanket that looks suspiciously like the comforter on his bed, eyes tired and hair messy. He really does look sick.

“Your mother asked me to bring your homework,” Kei says.

“Oh.”

They just kind of stand there for a moment, before Kei shivers violently, and Tadashi jerks back into focus, stepping aside to let Kei in. The Yamaguchi house is modest, but warm, and Kei wanders the familiar path up to Tadashi’s room. Sure enough, his bed is stripped of its comforter. 

“So you’re sick?” he says.

Tadashi nods. “I think it’s just a cold, or something. I should be good tomorrow.” He swallows. “I… I might be contagious, though, so maybe…”

Kei snorts. “Please.” His eyes narrow. “Unless you want me to leave?”

“No! No. Um. No.”

“Okay,” Kei drawls. “Then I won’t. And if I get sick, you’ll just have to promise to bring my homework to me.”

“Right.” 

Kei starts pulling out the binder where he’d stashed Tadashi’s assignments for the day, intending to go through them with his friend so he’d know what to expect. But when he looks up with the math worksheet in hand, Tadashi is already opening his mouth to speak. His face is beet red.

“Can I ask you something kind of weird?” he says, all in one breath.

“Sure?”

“Are you – I mean, this changes nothing, okay? Just know that I – I mean, we’ve been friends for so long that of course, I – well.”

“Spit it out,” Kei says. And he has to admit, there’s this part of him, this little leaping part of him, that desperately hopes it knows what Tadashi is going to say next. He wonders if he’s managing to keep his expression schooled. He wonders if his face is red. Is this happening? (For once, he doesn’t play dumb; he knows what “this” is, knows he wants it, too).

Tadashi is reaching for Kei’s sleeve, eyes averted and cheeks blazing.

Tadashi says: “Are you dating Kageyama?”

Kei’s world stops spinning. 

All he can hear is his own heartbeat, thundering in his ears arrhythmically and too quickly. Tadashi is finally looking at him, but in Kei’s red-tinted vision he looks almost menacing.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Tadashi says quickly. “I mean, quite honestly, I’ve known you were gay for a long time. And is the choice of who you’re dating – questionable? Sure. I mean, yeah. Yes. Yeah. But—”

“I am literally begging you,” Kei says, “to stop talking.”

“Oh.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“ _What_?” Tadashi scrambles backwards, away from Kei, wrapping his comforter tighter around himself like a protective shield. 

“I have literally never been this mad at you in my life—” Kei heaves. “Oh, god, I’m genuinely going to throw up—you think I’m dating fucking _Kageyama_?”

“I mean, I don’t think you’re fucking,” Tadashi says quietly. “We’re only sixteen.”

“ _Who said anything about fucking_?” Kei screeches. He gags again.

“Wh—you did, you asshole!”

“No,” Kei seethes. “You don’t get to call me an asshole when _I_ walk to _your_ house after practice through the fucking arctic to give you the homework that you missed because _you_ were sick, and have you _accuse me of dating Kageyama Tobio._ ”

“I saw you!” Tadashi cries, his hands flying up as if in surrender. The blue comforter drops to his feet with a _fwump_. There are a couple moments of silence, just the sound of Tadashi’s clock and both of them breathing a little heavily from agitation. Then Tadashi says again, softer, “I saw you.”

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kei says.

“In the hallway, that day. By the vending machines. Kageyama—he bowed and everything.” Tadashi’s eyes are big, eyebrows raised so high they carve lines into the skin of his forehead. He looks like he’s trying very hard not to blink. He is so, so strange. Truly. Where does he come up with this shit?

“Tadashi,” Kei says. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t ‘what the fuck’ me! I _saw_ you, Tsukki, you don’t have to—and you’ve been so obsessed with him for the last couple of weeks! Like, I thought it was really weird but then I _saw_ you and I got it! And you get so mad when you look at him and Hinata together, like you’re—like you were jealous—”

“I feel like I’m dreaming right now,” Kei muses. Really, honestly – this feels like a fever dream. “Not in a good way. Tadashi, holy shit—I think I look mad when I look at Hinata and Kageyama because they are genuinely two of the most annoying people I have ever met, and the fact that I have to interact with them on a daily basis would probably be the only reason listed on my hypothetical suicide note. And I haven’t been _obsessed_ with them, but if I ever—” he sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. Tadashi still hasn’t blinked. “But if I was, it’s because I know what it’s like to be in love with your best friend.”

Kei thought their conversation, from the point it had started going downhill to now, had been punctured by long stretches of uncomfortable silence as they both fumbled to be on the same page about literally anything. They were nothing compared to this, though. This silence is so deafening that Kei feels it in his bones, seeping into the skin of his rapidly heating face, taking ahold of his hands and making them tremble.

Tadashi, for his part, is statue-still. 

Kei starts to wish that he had been dating Kageyama Tobio after all. Maybe it isn’t too late. Maybe he could call the king right now and—

“Tsukki,” Tadashi says. Kei aborts that train of thought, sends it to the nearest metaphoric dumpster to rot and hopefully burn and die. “You don’t really joke. Ever. But if you’re trying something new and this is a joke, tell me literally right this second. Otherwise shut your mouth.”

Kei stays quiet.

“Okay. Okay. Wow. Okay.”

“Am I allowed to speak?”

“No. Holy shit.” Tadashi’s eyes dart around the room before settling on Kei’s face. He has to tip his head back just a bit to do it, and the angle makes him look younger. “Was that a confession?”

Kei says nothing.

“Oh. You can talk now.”

“Yes.” Kei tries to tilt his head so that the light reflects off his glasses and obscures his eyes, like people with glasses who are cool and smart and not freaking out do on TV. There’s no way it works, but it feels proactive. 

Then there is another beat of silence. This is why you wait for your guinea pigs to get together before attempting to do it yourself, Kei realizes; they iron out all the awkward bits and then you get to sweep in and do a clean run. You don’t have to have all these godforsaken staring contests every time someone says something surprising.

Then Tadashi rocks forward onto his toes and kisses Kei. Hard. Kei stumbles back a step before he manages to regain his balance and hold his ground – and Tadashi is pressed against him so close he can feel his heartbeat in his ribs, hear his blood thundering in his ears— and Tadashi is moving his mouth—

Kei realizes that he’s just been standing there, so tenderly – carefully – he places his hands on either side of Tadashi’s face and kisses him back.

It’s wet. It’s messy. It’s unpracticed and unsure. But it’s everything Kei didn’t allow himself to hope for, everything he’s been suppressing (poorly, to be fair, really fucking poorly), and Tadashi’s hair feels like silk and he’s always wanted to count the freckles that dust his nose and what happens now and he still needs to give him that coffee that he’d bought the other day—

And then he manages to stop thinking, for once. For once.

v.

“Hey, you haven’t made me hear about the Kageyama and Hinata situation in, like, a week,” Tadashi says. He’s sitting in a direct patch of rare winter sunlight that makes his baby hairs light up bright gold. Kei doesn’t stare, because he’s not embarrassing, but he happens to catch a glance every now and then.

He scowls. “Don’t even mention that. It was a phase. A suppression tactic, or something.”

Yamaguchi snickers. “I thought it was an empiric, observation-based study?”

“It was…it was that, too. Shut up, Yamaguchi.” He looks out the window. “It was for the best that I stopped meddling, anyway. My quality of life would go down by so, so much if they actually had ended up getting together.”

“Romance,” Tadashi simpers. “And it would have been all because of you!” He bats his eyes, and Kei scowls.

“Don’t remind me.” Tadashi laughs again, the sunlight glinting off his eyes and his teeth and his hair, and leans forward across the desk between them—there’s no one around, and if Kei leaned forward a bit, too, they would be—

The door slams open.

“I win,” Kageyama pants, raising a hand to the wall for support. 

“Yeah, because you cheated.” Hinata doubles over and rests his hands on his knees. Kei and Tadashi exchange a glance, but before they can get a word in or alert the other two of their presence, there’s already a squabble. 

“Wh—pushing isn’t cheating! You do it all the time!” Kageyama snaps, incredulous.

“Yeah, but it never works for me.”

“Because your center of gravity is shit—”

“My center of gravity literally makes your center of gravity look like—”

“—even though you’re like, seven centimeters tall—”

“—like a really lame little center of gravity—”

“—and by all accounts you should be harder to bowl over—”

“—like a little crybaby center of gravity – and who’s talking about bowling—?”

“Oh, my god,” Kageyama says, pushing off the wall to stare Hinata down. “You’re actually dumb.”

“Whoever smelt it dealt it.”

“Your mom dealt it.”

“I’m going,” says Hinata, “to kiss you now.”

It’s unclear who makes the first move—one second they’re just standing there breathing angrily at each other, looking a little ridiculous with their height difference, and then they’re surging toward each other to smash their faces together painfully. Kageyama backs himself against the wall, Hinata’s hands flitting from his face to his shoulders to his hips, and the whole thing is so aggressive-looking that Kei is almost alarmed.

Almost.

He stands up so fast that his chair rockets back against the linoleum, screeching like a racecar turning on a rubber track. He stands there, backlit by the streaming sunlight and he knows—he _knows_ —that as Kageyama and Hinata turn, aghast, to look at him, his glasses are tilted just so as to obscure his eyes triumphantly in light.

“I knew it,” he says, “I _fucking_ knew it.”

And just like that, one boyfriend and two dumbasses later, the study that’s consumed almost a month of Tsukishima Kei’s life comes, mercifully, to an end.

**Author's Note:**

> whoop whoop! pacing is *finger guns* not my forte. this is an exercise in imperfection because this is honestly so dumb i abandoned it for like two weeks but then i was like, u know what, it's ok to be dumb and post dumb things sometimes!!!! so i refused to read it over, gave it a name, and pressed post baby!!!!!!!! thanks for reading if u did!!


End file.
